


Lose It All

by MamaPanda93



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Cutting, Dark, Self-Harm, Suicide, alcohol use, may be triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 11:38:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaPanda93/pseuds/MamaPanda93
Summary: At seventeen years old, Daryl has had enough of all the pain and suffering and decides it’s now or never.*please do not read if suicide/cutting is a trigger*





	Lose It All

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know what to say...
> 
> Please seek help if you are suicidal.
> 
> *also this was written listening to, Nothing More - Jenny. On repeat. This song helps me from losing it all.*

It’s always one thing after the other, isn’t it.

 

At seventeen years old and already hoping for the sweet release of death. He honestly doesn’t remember when the thoughts of putting a bullet through his skull overcame every thought he had.

 

He just assumes it started when his father first picked up that belt. That degrading, evil belt. The large metal buckle was cold, but the leather burned with every lash that landed across his back and thighs.

 

Daryl lost count of the many scars, bruises, and fractured fingers he has gotten over the years. Fingers that will never be the same again, because he was stupid enough to think putting up his hands during a beating would help.

 

Lost count of the days when things were better, but honestly, was it even good to begin with?

 

He lets out a shaky breath as he fumbles around with the bathroom door lock with a half empty bottle in the other hand.

 

Whiskey doesn’t taste well on an empty stomach, but he couldn’t care less. Also doesn’t care what his father will say when he finds out that Daryl stole his last bottle.

 

But he doesn’t plan to stick around too much longer.

 

Any anxious thought he had blew out the window of the dirty trailer bathroom. Along with Daryl’s hope and will to go on any more.

 

Another swig of the bottle eases his thoughts as they try to creep inside his head.

 

Staggering to the bathtub, he turns the water on as hot as it’ll go, but gets icy cold water instead. Not caring, he sets the plug in and tries to take a few deep breaths.

 

After a few chugs, his head begins to spin as he tosses the empty bottle against the wall, letting it shatter into a ton of pieces. Not worried about making any noise, because nobody is home anyway.

 

As the water runs rapidly into the filthy tub, Daryl gets up and grips the sinks edge, shaking away any thoughts that try to come back.

 

He didn’t want to think right now.

 

Not anymore.

 

Opening up the medicine cabinet he reaches inside the clutter and grabs whatever pill bottles he can. Most of them are half empty, but he’s thankful his father didn’t try to sell them.

 

Just aspirin, muscles relaxers, and a handful of anti-depressants his brother left behind.

 

With just a handful of water from the tap, Daryl avoids eye contact with himself in the busted mirror in front of him. Doesn’t even think twice as he lifts his trembling hand full of pills into his mouth and struggles to swallow. Cringing at the foul taste of all the pills mixing together on his tongue and the horrible trailer park water.

 

Coughing a bit he wipes the back of his hand across his chapped lips. Letting in a ghostly breath as he does so, smelling the faint aroma of cigarettes on his sleeve.

 

What he would do for a smoke right now. 

 

Daryl brushes back his long greasy hair, gripping tightly as he pushes it out of his face. 

 

He turns off the water in the tub and paces the floor for a few minutes trying to shake his nerves, stepping on the glass with his bare feet.

 

Daryl chews at his nail, he wanted this, there is no going back. There’s nothing to go back to.

 

This is what he needed.

 

Without any other thoughts, he steps into the freezing cold water. Shaking a bit, but the alcohol helps numb the pain.

 

It takes a while, but Daryl fully lays into the tub, his legs too long so they hang over the edge as he dunks his head underneath.

 

He holds his breath as long as he can until his lungs can’t take it anymore. Hair sticking to his face like a lifeline as he begins to shiver, considering just ending it on the bathroom floor instead.

 

But he stays, the cold water eventually becomes somewhat comfortably numbing.

 

Sometime has past, unknown of how much as he slowly drifts in and out of it.

 

Daryl doesn’t know when he started crying, but he angrily wipes them away. Angry at himself for feeling so weak.

 

Why was he crying?

 

He wanted this, wanted this all to end.

 

The suffering.

 

The heartache.

 

The pain that it took to breathe every day, every. fucking. day.

 

The weight of the world laid on his shoulders, he never asked for this.

 

His head becoming more foggy from the booze and pills. Not wanting to let this drag on anymore, Daryl reaches out of the tub and grabs a glass shard from the bottle on the floor.

 

It’s not that sharp, but it cuts a deep enough gash as he applies a decent amount of pressure. The shard rips through his flesh as he trails down from his inner elbow to his wrist.

 

It stings as he grits his teeth, stifling a moan that wanted to come out.

 

Not too much longer the grey water around him becomes red. 

 

Daryl throws the shard out of the tub and lays back to try to relax. He lets the burn and fog take over his emotions and the tears finally stop.

 

His thoughts are no longer all over the place, instead he feels a sense of calmness wash over him like an amazing high.

 

Daryl softly smiles for the first time, in a long time.

 

His last breath on earth isn’t full of pain, it is full of peace.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Well, congrats if you made it too the end of my terrible writing skills! Here’s a cookie!
> 
> I apologize, but I am not well. I have lost my way in life and I’v been thinking of ending it all as well. This was somewhat therapeutic to myself writing this. I’m not looking for pity or emotional support. I’m just looking for someone to listen.
> 
> I had a really hard year. Just one bad thing after another, with no break to put the pieces back together again. I’m a very sensitive soul and need time to heal, but I couldn’t. Two months ago I made the worst choice of my life, I got a hold of some drugs. I won’t say which ones, because honestly I don’t know what was in it. I was looking for a break, a way out of the pain for a bit.
> 
> My body had a terrible reaction and I developed severe anxiety, my OCD came back like a train, and I’m dealing with depersonalization.. The hardest of them all. I had to quit my job, because everything was just too much. I lost my life I had before and I lost who I was. I feel like I’v completely lost my mind. It's terrifying, waking up everyday and going to sleep thinking you've lost it all somehow. Iv even lost my people who I thought were my friends.
> 
> I'm trying to get better, trying to stay strong for my family. Taking day by day. Seeking therapy, talking closely with my supports. I'm proud of myself for one thing though, I’v been sober for 6 weeks now!
> 
> But every damn day I'm getting more tired. I really don't know how much more I can hold on.
> 
> So if you're reading this, please don't rely on drugs to numb the pain! It is not worth it! Seek help if you need it, risking your mental health is not worth it!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> PS. I'm sorry for all of that, please do not judge me. I'm already going though so much. :(


End file.
